I Love You
by SeekingRedemption
Summary: A twisted little love story that really has little to do with love.  Soriku in the first chapter.  M for language and...for Sora.
1. The View From Outside

My first submission in almost a year! I've been awfully busy, people, I'm sorry—assuming I still have watchers/fans left, that is. I'm working on some pieces that I hope to have done soon, but I like to finish them before I put them up here so I don't leave you guys hanging.

Moving on. This is a crap chapter. It is a crap chapter because it is meant to be a crap chapter, and if you say different, I will hit you with a fish. If you would, please try to imagine that it's an excerpt from a full-blown crap fic. I know it's confusing, but I'm trying to make a point. You'll see.

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Obligatory Disclaimer: Sora, Roxas, Riku, Axel, and Kairi all belong to Square Enix. Dancers, makeup, outfits, the stage, the music, and toadstools all belong to me.

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Sora wandered up to him, feeling out of place in the stirring mass of bodies. He looked back to Roxas for help, but the blond was in Axel's arms, the two of them smooching at each others' faces and spreading Roxas's black lipstick everywhere. Axel's hand was slipping under the lace and fishnet on Roxas's back, and Roxas moaned deliciously into the kiss.

Turning away with his stomach churning from doubt, and wishing he and Riku could be like that, he finally found the object of his affection by the bar, studying the dancers. From the way his eyes roved over them, Sora was certain he was looking for someone to dance with, which made it all the more uncomfortable when those orbs of green landed on him. He blushed furiously, pursing his delicate lips—Roxas was right, the lipstick did taste like crap—and blurted out, "I love you."

It was so stupid. So utterly stupid of him. He looked at his feet, neatly decked out in heels from Roxas's collection, and studied the roses along the sides. His first thought was to say something to fix it, something like "Haha, it was a joke, funny!" Something like that wouldn't save him, but it would be better than this. It would be better than Riku's quiet, calculating look. "I love you," he repeated more fiercely, not really knowing why, other than that he had to make Riku aware of this. Succeed or fail, he looked up into Riku's eyes, his own blazing with intense feeling and emotion, his delicate heart beating against his chest, hoping that, somehow, Riku wouldn't hate him.

The gaze he met wasn't the cold, calculating stare he was accustomed to, but the gentle eyes of someone who cared. "Sora…" Riku said softly, his lips turned up in a smile for his friend's benefit. "I'm…I'm sorry, I guess I never realized you felt the same way."

"The same…?" Sora's eyes widened.

"I love you too. I always have."

Before Sora knew what was happening, he was in Riku's arms. Overwhelmed by emotion, he broke down into tears, but it wasn't embarrassing somehow. Riku did nothing, only waited for it to work out. As Sora looked up, something happened, and suddenly Riku was pressing his lips to those of Sora. It was the most amazing feeling as those delicate parts of their faces interwove, and lust was born. All too soon, they pulled away, and Riku took Sora's hand in his. "Let's dance," he said, pulling Sora onto the floor. Sora's cheeks lit up with pleasure as he realized that Riku had chosen him—him and no one else.

A slow song had come on, the lights dimming to soft purples and blues over the dark bodies of the other dancers, and they, at first awkwardly, but then smoothly settled into one another's embrace. Sora glanced around and realized that all the other girls had their heads resting against their partner's chests. Wondering faintly if Riku would approve, he rested his head against his chest as well. He felt a faint brush of air against his face as Riku chuckled, but didn't move away. As the music continued, he got more comfortable and closed his eyes, swaying with Riku to the music, feeling complete. He wanted nothing else in the world than for this to continue.

All too soon, it stopped, and he pulled away, remembering what he had promised himself he would do for Riku if he accepted his love. Riku looked after him in confusion. "Sora?" he called once. But Sora didn't respond, only looked back with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Riku jumped as a loud moan rang out behind him, but then realized it was because Axel and Roxas were necking passionately. He rolled his eyes, but the damage was done. Sora was gone. He looked around in a panic, hearing the techno beat kick in again, and realized that someone up at the top was calling for strippers. To his surprise, Sora was among the few who had volunteered. Not knowing what to expect, he pushed his way through the crowd to get to the front of the stage.

The strippers went to work, gyrating their bodies in seductive, eye-catching motions. But Riku's eyes were locked on Sora, who spun around the pole a few times before turning his back to his watchers. He removed his short little yellow shirt and threw it behind him. A girl behind Riku started screaming in his ear and reaching up for the flying clothing. When Sora turned back around, he waltzed around the stage in extravagant lingerie, never taking his eyes off Riku. In short order, the pink shorts were gone as well, and soon the lingerie would as well. Then he turned around and mimed being screwed—hard—in the ass. Riku gripped the edge of the stage, short of breath, at the looks Sora was giving him, poking a finger into his mouth lustily. Sora took his time with the lingerie, and Riku felt himself flush as something in his pants got interested. Once the lingerie, too went flying over the crowd's head, Sora pranced about in the nude like the others, keeping his hands over his nipples like they were. He revealed them one by one, and Riku felt a nosebleed build up.

And suddenly Sora was walking towards him, swaying his wide hips as he did so, and Riku was momentarily distracted by a certain focal point low on Sora's person. The brunette kneeled down and wrapped his arms around Riku's head, kissing him passionately as the music thrilled to a finish.

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Ah, the utter crappiness. The craptacular crappy crapitude. I think I like "smooching at each other's faces" best, it made me guffaw. Run-on sentences were fun, too—I just made them go on, and on, and on, and the pretty lights, and the things, and the yes, and the no, and yah. If you were ever confused about who "he" or "they" was referring to, I WANTED IT THAT WAY. YES I DID. MUAHAHAHAHA. And writing about Sora stripping made my stomach turn, it really did. I'm sorry that it exists. I truly am sorry. It was physically painful to write (and, no doubt, read) and couldn't have ended sooner, which is why I will NOT be reading over it. Ever.

Anyway. This is not the chapter upon which I want to focus your attention, as it is a crappy, crappy, _crappy_ chapter for a reason.

Thanks for sticking with me if you read through this filth! I literally wrote it without stopping to edit almost ever! I promise the next one's going to be more aesthetically pleasing as we take venture into Riku's brain! And it has a MESSAGE!


	2. Through Our Eyes

This is the significant part, and poorly executed. However, the comparison between this one and the previous chapter is like comparing…well, some apples that aren't all that great to some apples that really, really suck.

The explanation is below, but lest ye get a wee bit querulous, I LUVS BOY/BOY AND BOY/GIRL BOHF WIF ALL MY HAHT I DOEZ. I'm serious. I do. My stories can prove it.

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"I love you."

It's a lie.

It's a lie and he knows it, but he says it anyway. He's standing in front of me, his head down like a dejected two-year-old, and the words come from him in adorable stutters. They have to be adorable, since he's wearing a cute little outfit that would fit better on a girl, and his full lips, apple-shaped and apple-red, are put out in a pout that seems slightly overdone. He might be pushing it a little, but I don't say or do anything to tell him so. What would be the point? She doesn't care, as long as it's fluffy and cute.

"I love you," he repeats, more insistently this time, and his watery blue eyes rise up to meet mine. It's not a plea now, it's a declaration, and what will come next is a physical realization. He looks so fragile like this, his body more feminine than usual, and the makeup he's wearing makes me want to smack him, but I know he can't help it. She doesn't realize that it doesn't make him very sultry, it just makes him look like a big, badly-painted doll. He looks more like a girl than a boy. Why not just smack boobs on him in the first place, if he's going to lead his life this way—limp-wristed rape fodder up for the slaughter.

His mind is someplace else, and I can tell he was supposed to be with Kairi this round. He doesn't want this. It's breaking his heart, and it breaks mine to watch him suffer. But there's nothing either of us can do. Kairi's already gone, lost to either cancer or some other guy, I forget. They always find a reason to get rid of her, and this one's no different.

"Sora…" I say softly. My heart's not in it, but it doesn't matter. We'll recite our lines, even if we don't mean them. "I'm…I'm sorry, I guess I never realized you felt the same way."

"The same…?" He looks stunned, but I know he's not. He's improved on the impression, though.

"I love you too. I always have." God if I don't hate those lines with the passion of a thousand burning suns! It would be fine if she didn't make it so blatant, so dead that the words feel like cardboard as they leave my lips. But she does, and we both cringe at it.

He falls forward into my embrace, trembling with real tears. But they're not tears of joy. I can feel how empty my arms really are, how hollow his body is right now. He's someplace else, someplace I can't go, and I know that I'm just as far from him as he is from me. The party rages on around us, and our bodies are closer together than most, but it feels like we are on opposite sides of the room. I kiss him, I taste that filthy lipstick, but I don't shudder with revulsion, like I might if I were new to this. Seeing that face so close to mine, that face I'm so used to seeing, now up as if under a microscope with all its imperfections—it almost makes me choke. This isn't what I want this round. My thoughts are on someone else.

We pull away, and I see the dead look in his eyes that I know must be in mine as well. It cuts me to the quick. I wish we were meant to be this round. Then we wouldn't be here, pledging awkward love to one another during a party like this. In a moment he's going to get up and strip, moving like a girl and covering up his nipples like a girl and in general doing everything _like a girl would_. We both know it, but he's going to do it anyway, because he has no choice. If we were meant to be this round, it would be different. We wouldn't be courting each other shyly in locker hallways, but out laughing and sparring together like boys, not like boy and girl. We'd have a dinner out, someplace sophisticated like McDonald's, have a magical evening throwing rocks at the ocean and giving each other noogies on the paopu island, and maybe then, sitting next to me on the paopu tree, he'd say it. It would be awkward, but not this awkward. And we'd go back to our hobbies and pastimes, only now we'd have time for quiet, for intimacy, in addition.

I come out of a daze to realize that my line is coming up. "Let's dance," I say, and he looks surprised because I'm changing the lines. She doesn't notice, though. She merely glances at us and moves on to add some details to the party. I'm postponing the inevitable, but it's better than nothing.

We "dance," awkwardly shifting and not getting too close to one another, like wary ballroom dancers in a middle school play. He's brooding and doesn't want to talk, so I turn my attention to the party around us. It's playing a slow song, obviously through her influence, and the women all have their heads down on their partner's chests. It has a disturbingly uniform look about it, and lest she want it that way, I nudge Sora. Hesitantly, he puts his head down by my clavicle and blows a sigh across my neck. He feels stiff—he's not even putting his whole weight down, just barely resting his ear on my shoulder. I wish he could relax, but we're not meant to be this round, so it feels awkward being this close.

I glance around again and catch sight of Axel and Roxas, still sitting at the tables that the rest of us have abandoned. They're supposed to be necking, but she's not watching them, so they've lost interest in one another and moved away. Roxas is just as feminine and painted as Sora is, only with black lipstick and gothic black lace and fishnet (so new and original of her!), and Axel's gotten a little shorter—probably to reach him better. At the moment, Roxas is dully watching the festivities and (if Sora is any indication) thinking about Namine. Axel is obviously thinking about Roxas, from the way he keeps checking back to make sure nothing's changed about Roxas's position or mood. From the way his lip curls ever so slightly in disgust when he looks at the blond, I can tell that Axel is wishing Roxas wasn't so effeminate this round.

Time's out. Sora pulls away from me without looking at me and makes for the stage. "Sora…?" I call to him, faking confusion. Like that'll stop him. She's talking about how his eyes glint mischievously in my direction, but when he finally does look at me, it's that same hollow look, with a hint of mischief that is obviously faked. He vanishes into the crowd, bouncing delicately along, but he might as well be marching to his death from the way his shoulders are slumped in defeat. Axel and Roxas have started up again like an old car, and I can hear Roxas's forced moans rising over the music.

A techno beat starts up, and I walk to my position in front of the stage, pushing past people as I go. My stomach turns at the sight of Sora, his overdone makeup turned absolutely garish in the harsh lighting. I don't want to watch as he spins around the pole, twisting his hips like a serpent as his pink little tongue traces the edges of his lips. I don't want to see him toss his yellow top and pink shorts into the crowd and gallivant about the stage in lingerie. And I don't want to see him mime getting screwed in the ass—I especially don't want to see that, but I have no choice. The erotic expressions he's making have no effect on me, not while I'm straight this time, but I've gotten good at pretending, and call up a flush and an erection with professional promptness. What I want to do is grab him and shove him backstage, rip that lingerie off him and give him some boxers and a red or black jumper. I want to save him from her, keep her from emasculating him like this, walk on the beach with him, spar with him, fall in love with him when it's time for that and fall out of love with him when it's not my turn.

Chapter's ending, and he stands before me utterly naked, flushed with passion and embarrassment together. He struts towards me, expression sultry and wide hips rocking back and forth. I wish they were slender. At the end of the stage, he kneels and gives me another awful kiss. I'm supposed to be paralyzed with euphoria, so I do nothing, but I'm a little rigid when he haltingly puts his arms around my neck. It ends there, and she withdraws until the next.

We pull away from each other with the brusque attitude of children after an uncomfortable photo shoot, and he drops down off the stage. The people are fading, mostly mild creations of hers for the scenes, and the crew is appearing around us. "Are you all right?" I ask him. Maybe it's just me, but he seems more upset than usual—probably because he had to strip.

"Just peachy," he snaps in response, and directs his attention to the crew. "Let's get ready for the next one. I need my proportions restored and so does Roxas, and Axel needs to be stretched. Riku here needs a haircut, too—it's gotten a little long from the weeks she spent getting us together. And would somebody get this goddamned makeup off me?" he demands, seizing the towel Roxas offers him and covering up his embarrassingly distorted body.

Sora's always been the ringleader, being the protagonist, but the crew know what they're doing. His orders are just a way of blowing off steam (when he's not snapping at me), and they tolerate it.

I look up and see what's coming towards us, and my face breaks out into a broad smile. "Oh, Sora…" I almost moan with relief.

He looks mildly concerned for my state of mind, and eyes me warily. "What?"

"You've got Kairi next. And…and…it's a good one, Sora. A _good_ one." We rarely get one of this quality. Marvelous descriptions, some healthy characterization, not to mention the plot looked all but seamless.

Sora looks up and sees what I see, and he's back for a moment. For just a moment I'm treated to his wide grin, the anticipation in his eyes that so rarely alights there. Then he runs off, barely able to contain his excitement. "Where's the prick who took my Kairi!" he yells out at the crew, disappearing into the dressing rooms to search.

I only smirk at this. I'm not jealous, because at the moment, I don't feel that way for him. The only thing I want with him for now is right in the story flying towards us—a solid, dependable friendship, with no stripping, no dancing, no pretending and no lies. The love would come later, when he could say those words in context and mean them.

He glances out from the dressing room at me, shorter and darker haired, clad in his red jumper. His proportions are back to normal, and all traces of the makeup have been scrubbed off (rather roughly, from the way his skin looks), and he grins at me in a wide, excited way. "Come on, you! You're up next to get restored! Come _on_!" he calls, beckoning. He's like a child looking forward to a birthday gift, and I can see it beside him, her hand in his. She smiles faintly at me, still wavering on her feet from either chemotherapy or a particularly bad date.

"Make the most of it," I tell her. "We might get one like this every blue moon."

She nods, dropping her eyes from mine. "I-I'll…keep that in mind."

I hesitate, wondering if she's got an unusually close connection with her Namine side in the next one, but then I realize it's something else. _She's preparing herself._ She always does this, in case they do something to her, shove her to one side. She's not even used to having Sora to herself anymore, and they're one of the canon pairings.

As I step into the chamber, inputting the command to wipe my memory of the one before, I realize it. _Ah. That's who I was thinking of,_ I muse to myself, and then I close my eyes.

And it's gone. We start over again.

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YES, Sora does have testosterone. Bursting with it. Please think about that before you turn him into a sniveling, makeup-wearing, limp-wristed, girly, shopping spree, giggle at the word "penis" CHICK. If you turn Sora into what is basically a GIRL, there really is no point to what you're doing, is there? It's not shounen-ai, it's actually hetero, because you're throwing them into the same roles as boy and girl, and that's BORING. The point of shounen-ai is to be different and spontaneous, for it to be about love instead of about who fits into what role. I hate to preach, I just wish more people would realize what they're doing, and maybe even stop doing it.

Tossing Kairi aside in a "Well, she died" manner is another quick way to show that you're insensitive and boorish. Sora pays about ten times more attention to Riku in the game than he does to Kairi, so what have you got to prove? Shove her out in a dignified manner, if you must—not as a slut or dead.

In short: blah blah yark yark sora rant rant balls whine kairi flomp caput.

And that's my sermon for the day.


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